


Stuck in the Middle With You (The Apple for the Teacher Remix)

by thisbluespirit



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen, Locked In, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 14:50:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16020179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisbluespirit/pseuds/thisbluespirit
Summary: "An hour, trapped in a closet with you? It might as well be eternity."





	Stuck in the Middle With You (The Apple for the Teacher Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AstroGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstroGirl/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Trapped Here With You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1397692) by [AstroGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstroGirl/pseuds/AstroGirl). 
  * In response to a prompt by [AstroGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstroGirl/pseuds/AstroGirl) in the [remixrevivalmadness2018](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/remixrevivalmadness2018) collection. 



> This one wound up being last-minute and is unbeta-ed. Please forgive any remaining mistakes!
> 
> The summary and one section of dialogue are taken wholesale from the original work.
> 
> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> No safe stories. Fee free to remix anything, whether I included the fandom in the signup list or not.
> 
> List of previous remixes: https://astrogirl2.livejournal.com/626819.html

It takes months of careful planning, one supreme sacrifice and a lot of dark magic to enact the curse. It takes all of two days before the reality starts to pall on Regina. 

Most mornings she walks along Main Street, in time for Snow – Mary Margaret – to stumble into her and breathe out terrified, flustered apologies. It’s the highlight of her day. So Regina tells herself. And yet she only feels angrier half the time: why doesn’t Snow fight back? Why does she apologise when Regina’s the one who steps straight into her?

That’s the point, of course. But it takes some getting used to. 

One time, about fifty-six near-identical days later, Regina shoves Snow out of her path, purely for the satisfaction of trying something different.

Snow gasps out and drops to her knees on the sidewalk, gathering up sheets of paper that flutter out of folders, and scattered books, before looking up. “Madam Mayor! I didn’t see you. I’m so sorry!” She looks as if she might even cry.

It’s delightful. Or it _ought_ to be delightful. Why isn’t it?

“You pushed me, you know,” Snow says, as she gets to her feet, most of her school books retrieved, and she actually dares meet Regina’s gaze for once. Regina holds her breath, but then Snow leans forward, her face screwed up in concern. “Are you okay? You seem – I mean – you don’t seem exactly yourself this morning.” 

And maybe Snow nearly went as far as saying, ‘you seem worse than usual’ out loud instead of something sickening about glitter and unicorns, but it doesn’t change the fact that Regina’s revenge is lacking something.

One day soon, Regina’ll work out what that is, and then Snow will truly suffer, and Regina will be the one who’ll be happy. Not that she isn’t happy right now, of course. _Happier_ is what she means. 

She skips the visit to the hospital today. She can’t be bothered. You could say she hasn’t got the heart.

 

The worst thing is: that evening Snow – Mary Margaret – turns up at her door. When Regina opens it, Snow looks alarmed, but she nevertheless gives a hopeful smile.

“I’m sorry,” she says, almost in one nervous breath, “but you _weren’t_ yourself today and I thought – I thought – I could maybe buy you chocolate at –” her voice nearly fails under Regina’s coldest stare – “Granny’s. Or if you – if you needed someone to talk to. I could do that. Because I didn’t know if you had – anyone else.” She finishes with a gulp and takes a step backwards.

“ _What_?” says Regina. 

Snow puts up her hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any harm. I’ll go. But, you know, if you ever want to –” her voice gives out at last, probably a good few seconds behind her courage.

Regina regains control over herself and forces a smile. “No, dear. But thank you. I’m sure you meant well, but I’m fine. Or I will be once you get off my porch.” 

She could kill her. Hell, she literally could. It’s not as if the Sheriff is capable of arresting Regina; she’s the one who’s in control of him. She could kill Snow and have him arrest the body for the murder, if she wanted, and he wouldn’t even begin to see the weirdness of that. The only downside would be that she couldn’t do it twice. That’s why she hangs back. That’s why she doesn’t do it.

Snow stares at Regina, eyes wide, and then she backs away, before turning and heading for the gate at a pace that is only just short of running. Regina likes to think the subtext got through that head full of rainbows for a minute.

When Regina shuts the door, though, there’s nobody on this side but her. She could summon Graham, and later she might, but he wouldn’t understand, even if she told him. Nobody here does. She’s the only one who knows who they truly are.

She leans back against the door, and tells herself how much she’s enjoying it. If misery is trying to eat her up from the inside out, it’s got a fight on its hands.

 

***

 

In the Enchanted Forest, in a fairy tale castle, the Queen eats in splendid isolation, her table loaded with all the delicacies the palace cook can create. She has everything she can ask for, except for love. Except for revenge.

The food in front of her can barely tempt her. Princess Snow is elsewhere in the castle, happy and unpunished for her crimes. Regina can smile sweetly and carry out small cruelties, but it’s hardly worth her time. Sometimes Snow doesn’t even notice.

“Regina,” says a voice at the door, and when she looks across, she sees a small figure there. Her smile is less certain than it used to be, but that’s not much of an achievement.

Regina has to control her reaction, hiding the murderous rage that wants to consume them both, and gives a smile in return, playing the good stepmother that she isn’t. “What is it, my dear?”

“There’s dancing,” says Snow, as if Regina might not have noticed that the rest of the castle is heartlessly carrying on celebrating regardless of the Queen’s sorrows. They like it better when she’s not there. “Why don’t you come, too?”

Regina rises from her chair to meet Snow, bending down to face her. “Who would I dance with?” The words are knives through her heart. No one will ever dance with her. The King’s too much in love with his late wife to look at her, and her own true love is dead. 

“Anyone,” says Snow. “It’s not a ball. It’s only for fun. You’ll like it if you come, I know you will.” She holds out a hand and screws up her face in amusement. “You could dance with me.”

Regina clenches her fists and keeps her emotions in check, before she chokes out a laugh, and strokes her fingers gently down Snow’s cheek. “You’re a child. You don’t understand. It’s kind of you, my dear, but –”

“I wish you _would_ ,” says Snow, frowning as if with the effort of that wish, but there are no fairies here. Fairies aren’t any use to Regina.

As Snow sighs and turns to go, Regina says, the words falling out unbidden, “Don’t you ever think of leaving the palace?” 

The room is beautifully furnished; there are embroidered curtains and cushions on the bed. And she certainly isn’t going to starve unless she chooses to. (She’s not saying she’s thought about that once or twice; she’s not saying she’s noticed how far it is to the ground from this tower room. She’d never do that.) It’s perfect, and it’s the coldest, emptiest place she knows.

“But this is _home_ ,” says Snow, her face widening in surprise. “You’d like it if you tried. Why won’t you?”

It’s not home, it’s a prison. Regina closes her eyes, so as not to see Snow walk away (unharmed). She never truly attempts to leave: escape can’t bring about her revenge. She has to stay here with Snow to get what she wants.

 

***

 

On this particular day, somewhere about three hundred and sixty-five days into the curse (Regina’s not counting), the hospital visit takes an unexpected turn, although not for the better: a trip to the store closet winds up with her locked inside with Snow.

It’s as if some metaphor for her life has just become excruciating reality. It’s not as if she hasn’t realised before now that this whole damn curse was designed by someone with an unnecessary streak of ironic humour.

"Hey, it'll be okay," says Snow. "Don't worry."

"Oh, spare me your stupid optimism!" Regina growls, and slaps Snow's comforting hand away from her arm. This is _not acceptable._

"No, it will. There'll be a nurse through on her regular rounds in an hour or so. She'll probably need to come in here to get supplies."

Regina gives her a poisonous look. "An hour, trapped in a closet with you? It might as well be eternity."

Snow – _Mary Margaret_ \- looks hurt, then looks as if she's had a thought, then looks sympathetic, all in the space of a few irritating seconds. "Oh, my god, are you claustrophobic?"

 

They wait in silence for the seconds that make up an hour to tick away, and Regina mentally considers six different methods of killing Snow. She remembers saying once before that she doesn’t need magic to kill her; she could snap her neck with her bare hands. She looks across at Snow, huddled on the floor, from her dubious vantage point of perching on a plastic bucket, and catches her breath.

Wouldn’t it be worth it? She’s won already. She can finish it off. And then –

Wait, _seriously_ , she thinks, distracted by the realisation, is Snow _singing_ under her breath? Why is she even surprised? It’s probably something about bluebirds and rainbows.

Snow glances up, and flushes, looking away again. “It can’t be much longer,” she says, as if to comfort Regina.

“I don’t care how long or short it is as long as you stop that – that _singing_.”

“Sorry! I didn’t realise I was, not out loud. Only in my head to cheer myself up – pass the time. Don’t you ever do that?”

Regina glares. “No. I _don’t_.”

There must be any number of items she could use to kill Snow in a hospital closet, and the temptation increases with each second they’re stuck in there. The trouble is, the point of the curse was to make Snow suffer. If Snow is free, even if only through death, then why should Regina be here?

Regina doesn’t think of leaving, unlike Snow, though she’s the only one in the town who could. Out there is unknown – a place entirely without magic and with no built-in guarantees of power like Storybrooke. Regina could be just anyone, or no one at all once she goes somewhere new. Why would she give up the power she has for _that_?

So they’ll both stay in this town for as long as the curse holds out. And that’s fine. Storybrooke is exactly what she wanted, as long as she’s not trapped in a store closet. The curse worked. It’s the perfect prison for Snow, and if Regina has locked herself in here with her, that’s her decision. She’s got her revenge and she’s going to enjoy every moment of it, for all eternity, or at least for nine thousand, eight hundred and sixty two days, give or take a few.

She _deserves_ it.

 

That evening, Regina turns up at Snow’s apartment. It’s about time she saw for herself what sort of cell she’s given her, and, anyway, the scared rabbit look on Snow’s face when she opens the door and sees Regina standing there is worth it in itself.

Regina smiles, and for once it’s almost genuine. She hands over a basket of apples that Snow can’t refuse, no matter how much she wants to.

“Madam Mayor!” gasps Snow, clutching at the basket. “I – I mean, you didn’t have to.”

Regina smiles again and, while Snow’s hands are full, she strokes her cheek, a familiar gesture – the mockery of tenderness between the evil stepmother and the little girl who once made a terrible mistake. 

“Yes. I did,” she says, withdrawing her hand, but still wearing the smile. “I was unforgivably rude today. The thing is – you’re right. It seems I _am_ claustrophobic.”


End file.
